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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017092">falling, falling (learning to fly)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernova_darling/pseuds/supernova_darling'>supernova_darling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>GreedFall (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Flashbacks, GreedFall Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Male De Sardet (GreedFall), Not Canon Compliant, Suicide Attempt, a very vague reference to kurt's abusive past in the coin guard, de sardet's uncle abuses him but it's not described at all</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:07:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernova_darling/pseuds/supernova_darling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt's spent his whole life following orders. When his commander tells him of the plot to overthrow the governors, he keeps his mouth shut. When he's told he'll be the one to lead the coup d'état, he ignores the tremble in his hands and tells himself he can do it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kurt/De Sardet (GreedFall)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>falling, falling (learning to fly)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i did write this with romantic intentions! just to be clear! i made their age difference six years because that's the highest i could go for my own comfort and the lowest that seemed believable for the game. they meet when james is 15 and kurt is 21. james is 26 during in-game events which would make kurt 32 in my version. there isn’t actually any CLEAR romantic intentions in this (it’s all about the subtext babyyy) but in my head they’d end up together sometime after the events of this fic. </p><p>beta'd by the amazing <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowheart1/pseuds/Snowheart1">snowheart1</a>! thanks babe :P</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every step Kurt took towards the palace felt like a death sentence.</p><p>He knew this was coming, had known for a long time, and yet it felt all too soon. He tried his damnedest to keep his emotions locked away, but thoughts of James and Constantin surfaced nonetheless. Kurt saw James’ face in his mind’s eye, smiling brightly, and it made his heart ache. That image was always followed up by conjured scenes of how it would happen; how Kurt would kill him. He struggled to keep himself upright, to make his legs move forward, one heavy step at a time.</p><p>After he’d gotten his orders, what felt like years ago but was mere months, Kurt had become more reckless in his fighting. James got so frustrated with him that he refused to take him on any more excursions, saying he was a danger to himself.</p><p>✯</p><p>“What the <em> hell, </em>Kurt?” James yelled at him. Kurt had been particularly careless in their recent fight, and he’d ended up getting a nasty gash on his upper arm. By some miracle, James had managed to keep his anger at bay long enough to work that healing magic of his. But his rage could only be held back for so long, and Kurt wasn’t a good barrier against the tide of it. “Why do you keep putting yourself in danger?”</p><p>
  <em> you can’t hurt him if you’re dead </em>
</p><p>Kurt just shrugged and wouldn’t meet James’ eyes.</p><p>✯</p><p>He entered through the front, as always; he felt like he’d been here a thousand times. The familiar cold of the stairway railing would have been comforting to Kurt if he were here for any other reason. If he was wearing his usual blue of the Merchant Congregation, and not the heavy coin guard doublet that didn’t fit quite right.</p><p>When he reached the top of the stairs, Kurt nearly turned and walked right back down the stairs, out of the palace. He stood staring at the door for a moment too long, and he heard the guards behind him shift uneasily. Squaring his shoulders, he shoved the heavy doors open.</p><p>The thump of his boots on the wooden floor echoing through the room sounded so loud in the sudden silence. He stopped halfway across the room, directly in front of Constantin; the young prince was leaning forward on his throne, confusion drawn on his face.</p><p>“Kurt? What is—what’s going on? Is there something wrong?” The fear in his voice made Kurt want to reassure him, tell him nothing was wrong, that he would protect the both of them no matter what. But he couldn’t do that.</p><p>
  <em> why not? </em>
</p><p>“Coin Guards!” Kurt shouted, and he heard his men file into the room. With every moment that passed he felt more and more that he was standing on a precipice, leaning precariously over the edge. A swirling darkness awaited him at the bottom of the chasm, and it made his stomach turn. “The time has come,” he managed, holding himself against the tide growing in his chest. The soldiers lined up on either side of him.</p><p>“But—what is this?” Constantin questioned, fear cracking through his attempt at authority.</p><p>Kurt ignored him. “Ready arms!” he commanded, the pain in his chest increasing with every second.</p><p>“Kurt, what are you doing?” Constantin demanded, and Kurt wanted him to shut up so this would be easier.</p><p>“Aim!” he ordered, and the guardsmen around him directed their weapons at Constantin, at James by his side. He raised his hand to signal, desperately wishing it would stop trembling.</p><p>“Stop that, soldiers!” Constantin shouted, jumping out of his seat. “Lower your weapons, now!” Fear made his voice quiver, pulled taunt like a bowstring. </p><p>Kurt could barely speak around the lump in his throat. “Sorry, green blood,” he said, not sure if he was speaking to Constantin or James; both of them, he supposed. No amount of words would ever express how sorry he was. Not that it mattered. All three of them would be dead soon enough.</p><p>James stepped in front of his cousin, because <em> of course he fucking would, </em> and Kurt was finally forced to look at him. His anger was plain on his face, and it was a look Kurt was used to seeing, but never directed at him. They’d had their share of arguments, of course; both of them had notoriously short tempers. But through all of their fights, James had never looked at him with such rage, such <em> hatred. </em>It broke Kurt’s heart to know he was doing this to James. To himself.</p><p>“Fight with <em> honor</em>,” James demanded, a sneer curling his lips, and Kurt wasn’t sure what he’d expected James to say, but it hadn’t been that. He knew he was being baited, he knew he should just drop his hand and watch the two of them die, but he couldn’t do it when James was looking at him like that. Like he was a traitor.</p><p>
  <em> you are a traitor </em>
</p><p>Kurt signaled for his men to lower their weapons, and they looked at him with bewilderment, but obliged nonetheless. “En garde,” he warned, unsheathing his sword; when James didn’t move, he shouted, “I said <em> draw!” </em></p><p>James hesitated another moment before pulling out his twin shortswords with practiced ease.</p><p>✯</p><p>“Are you sure that’s what you want to learn?” Kurt had asked, trying not to be critical. He’d always liked greatswords best himself, with their familiar weight in his hands and the power they let him wield. But James was quick, Kurt had learned, in the short months he’d been training the kid. Always stealing things from his pockets, just to return them later, a smirk on his face. </p><p>“They’re great, Kurt. You’ll see! I’ll prove it,” he’d promised, and then gone about trying to disarm Kurt, movements clumsy and untrained. Kurt had laughed, but not maliciously, and James had tried to frown at him but a smile broke through instead, and he’d ended up laughing too. </p><p>Kurt found himself liking the kid, even if it hadn’t been his first choice of assignment. James was only fifteen, but he already had a sharper mind than many of the people Kurt had trained with. “It’s alright, green blood,” he’d told him, the first time he’d used the nickname. “You’ll learn.”</p><p>✯</p><p>James had learned much in the eleven years since then, much that Kurt hadn’t taught him. Today, maybe, he’d learn what it felt like to kill someone you trusted.</p><p>
  <em> someone you loved </em>
</p><p>Every metallic clang of their weapons echoed loudly in the silent room. Kurt’s experience took over; he shut out his emotions, like he’d done so many times before. James parried each of his blows expertly, and Kurt’s heart would’ve swelled with pride in different circumstances.</p><p>Eventually, Kurt got reckless, like he always did with James. He swung too wide, letting James duck harmlessly underneath his sword. James came up swinging, landing a punch on Kurt’s face that sent him stumbling away.</p><p>“Stop it, Kurt!” he shouted, yanking him upright by his collar and pressing a blade to his throat.</p><p>Kurt smiled maliciously. “Do it, green blood,” he seethed. “Kill me. <em> Kill </em> me. <em> Do it!</em>”</p><p>James’ hand shook where it held his sword, and his grip tightened on the back of Kurt’s collar. Something akin to pain crossed his face, and he let the weapon clatter to the floor. “No,” he whispered, trembling. James pushed him away, and Kurt nearly fell before regaining his balance. “I’m not gonna kill you, Kurt.”</p><p>Even after such a betrayal, James still wouldn’t hurt him. It made Kurt’s chest feel tight, nausea swirling in his stomach. He found himself wishing James would scream at him, hate him for it. Why’d he have to make this so goddamn difficult?</p><p>
  <em> this is your fault alone </em>
</p><p>Kurt’s anger, mostly at himself, manifested itself on his face. He sneered despite himself, an ugly thing he knew James loathed. </p><p>✯</p><p>“It makes you look mean,” James had told him, when he was seventeen and Kurt was twenty-three. Kurt had gotten accustomed to James’ quick wit and unkind words; a retort was on the tip of his tongue when James continued. “I just… I don’t want anyone to think that of you. You’re the best person I know.”</p><p>Kurt was surprised into silence for a moment. James wasn’t one to hand out compliments, and especially not to Kurt. But his voice was genuine, his words honest. “Thank you, green blood,” Kurt managed eventually, hoping he sounded serious.</p><p>James grinned, and then he elbowed him in the side. “Don’t go getting too sappy about it, Kurt,” he’d said, and Kurt had laughed and shoved him back.</p><p>✯</p><p>But this was no heartfelt moment. “I know I didn’t train a coward, green blood,” Kurt taunted, his face twisting. “Fight me! Fight with <em> honor!</em>”</p><p>“I <em> can’t!</em>” James screamed, chest heaving. “I can’t fight you, Kurt. You’re my friend.” He looked away, shaking his head, and his gaze fell to the floor. “You’re my friend,” he repeated, quiet. His voice sounded so, <em> so </em>small, like when he was a teenager and his uncle would shout at him for some reason or another. Kurt remembered standing in the back of the room, forced to watch but unable to do anything to stop it. He’d wanted to ensure no one ever spoke to James like that again, that no one ever made him sound that scared.</p><p>And now he was the cause of it.</p><p>This was his breaking point.</p><p>Part of him knew he’d never be able to kill James or Constantin, but he’d tried so hard to believe he could follow his orders through till the end. And then, when they were dead and gone, he would lay with their bodies on the pyre and the three of them would go up in flames.</p><p>But standing there, looking at James, seeing what he’d done to this kid that he cared so much about—</p><p>His sword fell to the ground with a sharp <em> bang. </em></p><p>✯</p><p>Kurt found James at the end of an empty hallway, near a window overlooking the western grounds. When he saw Kurt approaching, he furiously wiped the tears off his face, but he couldn’t get rid of the redness in his eyes.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Kurt, I know I’m late to training—”</p><p>“No, kid, I’m not worried about that,” Kurt quickly reassured him. He’d heard word that the prince had been shouting at James again, but this was the first time it had kept James from weapons practice. “Are you okay?”</p><p>James looked up at him in shock, allowing Kurt to see the previously hidden side of his face. The sight nearly made Kurt recoil, and anger curled in the pit of his stomach; not at James, but at the bastard who hit him. The dark blotch of purple on James’ cheek made Kurt’s heart ache.</p><p>Realizing his mistake, James turned away again. Kurt’s chest felt tight, full of things to say, but he couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat. He hadn’t thought the prince to be that kind of person, but now an ugly hatred for the man festered inside Kurt’s heart. He’d never wanted James—or Constantin, or anyone for that matter—to go through even a sliver of what Kurt had endured.</p><p>Yet, despite his anger, a sort of resolve grew, a promise blossoming in his lungs, up through his throat and out of his mouth.</p><p>“James,” he said, and the sixteen-year-old faced him once more, although reluctantly. “I can’t always protect you, but I will do everything in my power to keep this from ever happening again. I can promise you that. Okay?”</p><p>After a heartbeat, James nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he affirmed, and then, more sincere, “Thank you.”</p><p>Kurt smiled and told James they could skip out on weapons training for the day. Instead, he showed him how to sneak into the palace kitchens, and where they kept the baked goods. He got James grinning like an idiot, per usual, and he knew that when he couldn’t protect James from harm, he’d at least be there to pick up the pieces.</p><p>✯</p><p>Kurt felt like he was the one in pieces, now; shattered like glass, with only himself to blame.</p><p>For a second, everything was quiet, and it was in this moment that Kurt knew what he had to do. To protect James. To <em> punish </em>himself.</p><p>
  <em> you deserve this </em>
</p><p>He pressed a dagger against his throat.</p><p>James inhaled sharply and dropped his remaining sword; the sound echoed loudly throughout the room. “Kurt,” James pleaded, “don’t do this. Please.” He sounded rushed, and his breath was coming up short.</p><p>“I have to, green blood,” Kurt said, and steeled himself for the slice of pain that awaited him. But when the pain on James’ face twisted into anger, Kurt stopped short.</p><p>“You said you’d protect me,” James hissed. “That you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. You <em> promised</em>,” he added, and his voice broke at the end. Kurt could see through the rage; he knew James was using it to bait him. His eyes were still full of pain and fear, without a hint of the anger he showed in his expression. But he meant what he said. Kurt’s hand shook where he held the knife.</p><p>Maybe the kid was right. Maybe this was the wrong decision.</p><p>
  <em> it’s too late </em>
</p><p>As if reading his thoughts, James shook his head. “It’s not too late,” he said, desperation laced in his voice. “We can fix this,” he continued, stepping closer. He was less than a meter away now. They could’ve touched hands if they’d reached towards each other.</p><p>“Let me fix this,” James asked, <em> begged, </em>and Kurt felt like his chest was caving in.</p><p>“You can’t,” Kurt murmured, shaking his head. He couldn’t remember ever hearing his own voice so small before.</p><p>“I can. I can. Just don’t do this.” James was standing so close now, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t do this. I can’t—” He broke off and shook his head, casting his gaze away. Kurt knew he was battling with the tidal wave surging in his chest; he felt it too, the precipice they stood on.</p><p>“I need you,” James said finally, and when he looked at Kurt again, his eyes were full of tears.</p><p>
  <em> i love you </em>
</p><p>Kurt lowered the blade slowly, his hand still trembling.</p><p>James breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Kurt felt a weight removed from his chest.</p><p>One of the soldiers shifted nervously, and the rest of the room suddenly came into sharp focus. What he’d <em> done </em>came into focus. A tension hung heavy in the air. Kurt cast his gaze towards the floor.</p><p>A soldier spoke up, her voice taunt like a tripwire. “Captain?” she inquired, nervousness clear from her inflection. “What’s—”</p><p>“<em>D</em><em>ismissed</em>,” Kurt hissed, flinching at his tone. The soldiers hesitated before shuffling out of the room. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them, and Kurt flinched again at the noise. A headache was settling itself deep behind his eyes, and he strongly felt the need to lie down.</p><p>He was still staring at his boots when James reached a hand towards his. He gently took the dagger that dangled precariously in Kurt’s fingers. He’d forgotten he was holding it. James placed it in his belt and reached out again, this time to take Kurt’s hand in his own. His grip was warm, solid, <em> alive. </em>Kurt thought he would cry, knowing that the whole ordeal was over and James was still standing in front of him.</p><p>But no tears came. He knew something inside of him had hidden itself away, and when it returned, his tsunami of emotions would return alongside it. For now, he just felt immensely tired.</p><p>Kurt didn’t ask where they were going when James led him by the hand through the palace. He kept his gaze downcast and focused on not tripping over his boots.</p><p>Eventually, they entered a room; James’ room, by the looks of it, although he never really slept at the palace. Kurt sat at the foot of the bed and James followed, still holding his goddamn hand. Kurt wanted desperately to cry, but no tears fell.</p><p>The amount of time that passed next was immeasurable. The shadows grew long, and soon the lanterns would have to be lit. Kurt could feel his heart beating heavy against his chest.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he murmured finally, his voice hardly a whisper but loud in the silence.</p><p>James gripped his hand tighter, fingers curling into the palm of his hand. “I know,” he whispered back, and Kurt shut his eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i tried to write more for this but it just??? didn't work??? all the scenes i wrote afterwards were just. shitty. let me know if you have any ideas because i'd love to write more of these boys!!! even if it doesn't work w/ this fic, i'd love ideas for them in general.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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